From the expression on his face, Brian was about as surprised to see her as
she was that she'd made the decision to come.

He stared at her for a good five seconds before she said anything and when she
did, she decided to get it out all in one go.

"I need a place to stay that's not expensive, and doesn't have Emmett or loving,
sickening couples drooling all over each other."

And, God help her, Brian Kinney was most likely to - if not sympathise - then
at least understand.

He shrugged. "Where's my kid?" he demanded, pulling the door open further and
not helping at all as she dragged her suitcase inside.

"Still in Toronto, with Linds," Melanie replied, parking the suitcase by the
end of the sofa. "I dropped JR off with Michael on the way here." Gratefully
collapsing onto the sofa, she shot him a look as she realised this was an odd
time of day for him to be around. "What are you doing here in the middle of
the day, anyway?"

Brian lifted his eyebrows. "Why the fuck are you here at all?"

Pushing back further into the sofa, she dropped her gaze to the coffee table
- then looked back up when she realised it was covered with magazines of naked
men. Jesus. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Talking happens to be one of my least favourite activities," he replied, and
Melanie heard his lighter chink open. "Wanna drink?"

*

"She fucking did it again," she finally spat out after her fifth shot of vodka.
It was her drink of choice when deciding to get drunk, and it was disturbing
that he knew that.

Brian didn't pretend to be obtuse. "Well," he began quietly, taking a drag from
his cigarette, "obviously she's not quite the lesbian you are."

"She's not a lesbian at all!" Mel argued, because seriously, what kind of lesbian
liked dick? Sam, Sam Fucking Auerbach; he was an aberration. Not an easy one
to forget, fuck no, but he was a one time thing that she could eventually get
past.

But then it'd happened again.

"Come now, Melanie, you're not saying that just because she fucked a guy or
two."

Christ, she wanted to punch his face in. "Yes, actually, *Brian*. Strangely
enough, the fact that she likes dick makes me think she's not quite the muff-diver
she claims to be."

"It's not about cock," Brian objected, sprawled across the opposite end of the
sofa, "it's about getting your needs met. Take, for example, *your* little indiscretion."

Why did people have to bring that up all the damn time? "That was with a woman,"
she was quick to point out.

"Yeah, but why did it happen?" he argued. "You weren't getting your needs met.
In your 'relationship' with Lindsay at the time, you weren't getting what you
needed. So you got it with someone else." He flicked off the end of his cigarette
into the ashtray he was holding in his free hand. "Same thing with Linds; she
wasn't getting what she needed, so she found that with someone else."

"But the thing she found was *cock*!" she yelled, gesturing with her vodka hand.
Jesus, the man was infuriating. "Ergo, she's not a lesbian."

"Everything has to have a fucking label these days," he bitched in return, what
was left of his cigarette now hanging from his lips. "Fag, dyke, lover, girlfriend..."

Sensing an opportunity, Mel smirked. "Husband."

Brian paused, glaring, then yanked the cigarette out of his mouth and pointed
at her with it. "Don't think I won't kick your ass out on the street."

"Just try it," she snorted. "You won't walk straight for a month." Leaning towards
the table she poured herself another shot, throwing it back immediately - and
nearly choking on it. "Fuck..." That stuff was *good*.

"So what if she is bi?" Brian asked. "Or...say she's a cwazy wesbian with occasional
leanings towards cock. Can't say I blame the girl. What matters the most? That
it was cock? Or that she fucked around at all?" He stubbed out the cigarette.
"By the way," he pointed out, "if you weren't monogamous, you wouldn't be having
this problem."

"Fuck you," Mel snapped. "Not all of us are interested in fucking every hot
guy we see."

"And thank the Lord for that," Brian replied with obviously fake sincerity.
"Now, if you don't mind," he glanced at his watch, before leaning to place the
ashtray on the coffee table, "I have somewhere to be."

Blinking her surprise, Mel watched as he put on his shoes and picked up his
keys and wallet. It only occurred to her at that very moment that she hadn't
seen him drink a fucking thing. "Where are you going?"

Brian slipped the wallet into the back pocket of his jeans as he pulled the
door open. "Justin's flight is due in."

"Justin's coming here? Today? Why didn't you say anything?"

"You didn't ask," he smirked. "Don't worry, Miss Melanie. I assure you that
all interactions in your presence will be devoid of any sentimentality or feeling."
And with that, he stepped outside the loft and pulled the door shut.

Fucking hell.

*

"What's she doing here?"

Melanie was reasonably sure that Justin had no idea she was awake and, therefore,
could hear everything he was attempting to whisper.

"Don't fucking ask me. She needed somewhere to stay, and they're not exactly
rolling in it lately."

She was also reasonably sure that Brian *did* know she was awake.

"And she came to you."

"Yeah."

"Melanie Marcus came to Brian Kinney for help."

"What about it?"

"It's creepy, Brian." Justin's voice, by now, was doing a bad job of hiding
his amusement - he was obviously making fun of the situation.

"Listen, you little shi-"

"No, no, I think it's nice," Justin interrupted. "It's like we're stuck in some
weird alternate dimension where you two are best friends. Before you know it
you'll be braiding each other's hair."

"Is this same dimension where you never get to top me? At all?"

"Never mind. Forget I said anything. I like this dimension just fine."

On second thought, maybe Brian didn't know she was awake.

*

When she came to later, Brian and Justin were most definitely fucking.

Muttering to herself - this had been a bad fucking idea, right from the start
- she grabbed a cushion and used it cover the ear that wasn't pressing against
the sofa.

Sighing, she exhaled heavily, opening her eyes...and saw something on the coffee
table.

A bottle of water, and a set of ear plugs.

Eagerly grabbing the ear plugs, she jammed them into her ears, and it was only
when the blanket fell away from her body that she realised she'd been covered
with one. Taking a few sips of the water, she settled back down onto the sofa,
pulling the blanket up to her neck.

If Brian Kinney *had* to exist, at least he came accompanied by Justin Taylor.

When a particularly loud groan made it through the ear plugs, Melanie wished
no one was coming at all.

*

At approximately Too Fucking Early To Be Awake, Melanie's bladder woke her up
and demanded that she head for the nearest toilet, ASAP. Grumbling the entire
time, she yanked the ear plugs out and managed to find her way towards the bathroom.
As she shuffled by what passed for the bedroom - of *course* Brian had kept
the shutters open, the asshole - she glanced inside. They were, somewhat predictably,
wrapped around each other - Brian sprawled on top of Justin. She forced herself
to think with grim satisfaction that someone was probably going to be uncomfortable
when they woke up, because if she didn't she'd focus on the way Brian's face
was buried into the curve of Justin's neck, or how Justin's right arm was wrapped
around Brian's side, even in sleep.

It was almost like they'd fallen asleep fucking.

And no, *no*, her eyes were *not* fucking burning, and she sprinted the last
few steps to the bathroom, quickly sliding the door shut behind her. In the
bathroom she couldn't help but wonder how it'd come to this - Melanie Marcus,
sitting on Brian Kinney's toilet in Brian Kinney's loft, having lost the woman
she loved yet again while Brian fucking Kinney himself was mere feet away, all
over the man that he...what? Fucked more than once? Had actually almost married?

In what fucked up universe did that happen? In what fucked up universe was that
*fair*?

Oh Christ, and now she was fucking crying (when was the last time that happened?)
and she was yanking tissue from the toilet roll, and she was blowing her nose
and her head pounded and she was never fucking drinking vodka again.

Three light taps echoed through the bathroom door. Mel froze, holding her breath
- as well as she could, anyway. Crying kind of fucked with areas important for
breathing.

"Mel?" Soft voice. Justin. "Mel, are you okay?"

"Fine," she sniffed, barely resisting the urge to tell him to fuck off.

A few moments silence. "If you need anything, or...you just wanna talk..."

No, she sure as hell didn't want to talk, because if she did she'd probably
cry some more and then scream about how he'd made Brian fucking Kinney fall
in love with him, and she couldn't even manage to keep Lindsay Peterson in love
with her and she was stronger than him; she was stronger than anyone.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. "I'm *fine*." And her voice did not waver at all. At all.

More silence. "Okay."

He must have moved away, because soon after she heard the low murmurs of conversation
which meant Brian was awake too and he must've heard...

Fuck.

*

Melanie had to have a plan.

Not about Lindsay. She still had no idea what to do about that, even as she
checked her cell phone and listened to eight different messages begging her
to come home.

But for Brian. Brian Kinney knew she'd been crying in his bathroom in the middle
of the night, and there was absolutely no way she could let that stand.

She'd come to Brian for a very specific reason. She loved all of her friends,
she really did, but with the exception of Emmett they were all happily in love
and she really didn't need to see that right now. And as for Emmett...well...he
was a great guy, but in this situation he'd drive her up the fucking wall. No
one could be *that* cheery all the time.

Brian...he was supposed to have been alone. The self-absorbed bastard she knew
and frequently loathed, and he wouldn't have given two shits about what'd happened.
It was just what she needed.

Except...

"Hey, you want another coffee?"

"Sure," she shrugged, and Justin happily poured her another cup, like the pro
he used to be. Evidently he hadn't lost his touch.

Brian seemed to think so too, groping him from behind and muttering something
into Justin's ear.

Justin turned an interesting shade of red. "Brian!" He pushed him away with
his elbow. "Not now," he hissed, pulling completely out of his grasp and moving
off somewhere.

Melanie shifted on the stool she was sitting on, eyeing Brian.

Leaning his arms on the counter, Brian lit up a cigarette. "Look," he began,
"you can stay here until you get your head on straight, but there are rules.
One, no complaining about the fucking. Two," he exhaled a breath of smoke-infested
air, "talk to Lindsay. Even if it's just to tell her to fuck off. Do you know
how many messages I have on my fucking machine? I had to turn the ringer off
last night. I may need to save the space on there for something really important,
and I can't do that if she's leaving messages every five minutes."

Well. This was not how she'd expected things to go.

"I'll talk to her as well, of course," he continued, "but I'll wait until she's
calmed down. Nothing irritates me more than hysterical women."

Yeah, right. He loved Lindsay and they both knew it. It was part of the reason
he annoyed her so much.

She opened her mouth, ready to ask why the hell he was being so...well, *not*
like an asshole, when a clunk and a muted curse drew her attention. Justin was
at the counter against the wall. He'd obviously placed the coffee pot back in
the maker, but there was coffee all over the counter and he was exercising his
right hand.

Brian dumped his cigarette in the ashtray, and took the few steps towards him.
"Hey, you been working it too much?"

Justin kept flexing his hand until Brian grabbed it with both of his and started
massaging. "I'm fine," he insisted with a smile. "Just a twinge."

"Hmm," Brian murmured, leaning in closer, still massaging. "Well make sure you
keep taking it easy. I have plans for this hand later."

"This hand is very much looking forward to those plans," Justin grinned, tugging
Brian down for a kiss.

Jesus.

Whatever it was those two had, it wasn't like Michael and Ben, or Ted and Blake,
or even Debbie and Carl. It was different to just about any relationship she'd
seen - and she still didn't get how regularly fucking complete strangers fit
into the equation - but it worked. For them, it worked.

In some ways, they were *worse* than the others. Christ. Maybe staying with
Michael would've been better, after all.

While Justin started wiping up the mess he'd made, Brian moved back towards
the ashtray, pausing when he saw the look she was giving him. "What's up your
ass?"

She lifted an eyebrow. "Devoid of sentimentality and feeling?"

Brian didn't flinch, leaning onto the counter again and calmly picking up his
cigarette. "So, should I stock up on extra tissue for the bathroom tonight?
Or should I leave you to take your chances?"